


Bottom of the First

by a_question_of_love (roseandheather)



Series: Inning by Inning [1]
Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Coming Untouched, Established Keith/Anderson, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/a_question_of_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the 2008 Democratic convention, Shep Smith wakes up in bed with Keith Olbermann and Anderson Cooper. Anyone with good sense would have run away screaming.</p><p>Shep Smith never was one for following good sense when it got in the way of a good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottom of the First

**Author's Note:**

> This fic doesn't even invite reality over for tea, let alone conform to it in any meaningful way. I have no idea if Shep Smith even attended the 2008 Democratic convention, or if Anderson did. Nor do I particularly care. This is an exercise in self-indulgent smut - nothing more, nothing less.

He's never quite sure how the three of them ended up in bed together.

Alcohol? Denver? A political adrenalin high?

An alcohol-induced political adrenalin high in Denver?

In the end, it's all immaterial. Because the fact is, Keith Olbermann wakes the day after the convention with Anderson Cooper's head pillowed on one shoulder - not a surprise - and Shepard Smith draped over his other side like a particularly affectionate octopus.

Which _is_ a surprise.

Shep snuffles in his sleep and wriggles closer, hair tickling Keith's nostrils. The whiff of fruity scent brings last night back in sharp, stark clarity - at least the part after they'd slammed the door to the hotel room shut - and he buries his nose against the soft strands, hand absently rubbing the shorter man's back. Shep makes an odd sort of cooing sound, followed by a snuffly little sigh - a total contrast to the high, thin wails they'd wrung from him last night, pinioned between them, Keith taking him mercilessly from behind while Anderson kissed and cooed and coaxed him to the brink half a dozen times before he'd fallen apart with a sodden scream and collapsed...

"The hell?" mutters Anderson, swiping absently at the bit of drool currently dampening Keith's shoulder and squinting across the breadth of his partner's chest. "Is that..."

"Yeah," confirms Keith, scritching at the back of Anderson's neck. Anderson promptly goes boneless, burying his face in Keith's chest.

Shep doesn't stir.

"Poor guy," Keith continues, his voice a consciously low rumble. "I think we wore him out."

"Di'nt," a sleepy Mississippi drawl mumbles against his shoulder. "'M fine." Stunning steely blue eyes flutter open, darting around the hotel room. "What the fuckin' hell -"

"Easy," says Anderson, reaching a hand across to grip Shep's shoulder. Keith lets him; he never was much of the comforting type. "Don't panic."

Shep barks out a slightly hysterical laugh. "Don't panic!" He drops his face down to hide in Keith's shoulder - a good sign, as far as Keith is concerned. "The fuck _happened?_ "

Anderson's eyes fly wide open at that. So do Keith's. "You don't remember?" Anderson asks incredulously, but Keith can hear ' _oh shit, oh shit, oh_ _**shit** ' _in his voice.

Face still buried in Keith's shoulder, Shep shakes his head once, twice...

Then a shudder runs through his whole body, and he melts weakly into Keith's side, hips tilting almost unconsciously to rub against Keith's thigh. "Oh," he says, half sigh, half moan. "Did we..."

"Yeah," Anderson confirms softly. "We did."

"Fuck."

"Repeatedly," Keith mutters, and ducks Anderson's swat to the back of his head.

"No." Shep lifts his head, looks into his eyes, and rubs anxiously, needily against Keith's thigh, entirely deliberately this time. "I mean, _fuck._ "

"Oh," says Keith, very dark. "Oh, baby. Okay. Andy..."

"No," says Anderson, with a shake of his head, as Shep watches them with needy, bewildered eyes. "Not my thing."

"I thought that was just with me?" Keith is only a little startled - he likes the occasional bottoming well enough, but Anderson loves being taken so much that they've never done it the other way - but he hadn't known this.

"Not just you," Anderson says, his eyes warm. "You just make me even less inclined."

"Huh?" says Shep, hips tilting again.

"Andy doesn't like to top," Keith tells him, absently rubbing his back in soothing strokes. "With anyone, apparently. You okay with just me, babe?"

"Fuck, yeah." Shep leans up, reaches over to draw Anderson's lips to his, soft and artless. "Doesn't matter who, just..."

"Okay. How do you want this?"

Shep looks at Anderson, fingers twisting anxiously. "Hold me?"

"Yeah, of course," says Anderson, a warm smile just touching his lips. "C'mon."

A bit of wriggling settles Anderson against the headboard, Shep half-prone between his thighs, his eyes glassy now as Anderson deliberately spreads him open, fingers teasing at his entrance, still slick and loose from the night before. Then Shep whines and reaches out; Anderson's hand slides into his, fingers lacing together, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on Shep's chest.

"Fuck me," Keith breathes, studying the tableau before him, one hand tugging loosely at his cock, just enough to take the edge off.

"Other way 'round," says Anderson with a wink, and Keith huffs out a breathless laugh.

Shep, too far gone, only lets out a half-formed moan.

"'Kay." Keith leans in, takes Shep's mouth in a hot, oddly gentle kiss. Shep kisses back sloppily, rubbing his lips against Keith's with nothing like coordination, and while he's still distracted, Keith slides inside him in one long, merciless stroke.

Shep _keens,_ back arching, his hand clamping down around Anderson's as Anderson murmurs soothing nonsense in his ear - things like "that's it, baby," and "so good," and "I've got you, swear to God." Keith holds still as long as he can - until Shep is rocking up into him, whispering "fuck me" and "perfect" and "goddammit, _move,_ you bastard -" into the hot air between them, until he just can't keep still any more.

The force of his first thrust shoves Shep up against Anderson's body and Anderson lets out a gasping moan, his dick twitching in the hollow of Shep's lower back. Shep moans too, almost as if in response, his eyes half-closed, heavy-lidded in pleasure.

Out, in, out and in again, the pressure so tight, so good, so _beautiful._ Shep is gorgeous like this, mouth slack, knuckles white where he's squeezing Anderson's hand as though he'll fly apart if he lets go, and Keith can't stop, can't help his own breathy moans and animalistic grunts as he fucks David Shepard Smith into oblivion.

And through it all there's Anderson, his voice warm and soothing, his eyes a clear, shining, bright sky blue over the chestnut of Shep's hair. His presence is like a balm, a warm, wonderful ribbon of comfort and familiarity winding through the newness, the strangeness of this, of taking someone who isn't Anderson, of watching Shep Smith - bossy, energetic, always-in-control Shep Smith - be reduced to a limp, sweaty, whimpering mess beneath him.

"Gonna come when I say?" asks Keith, his voice a growl he barely recognizes, and Shep shivers in Anderson's arms. "Not before, not after, but right when I tell you? You're such a _good_ boy, aren't you, baby? Gonna come for me, and only me?"

" _Yes,"_ keens Shep, his body arching, scrabbling with his free hand until Anderson is clutching that one, too. "When you say, I promise, only when you say..."

~*~

It's ten minutes later and Shep is writhing between them, hands a bloodless white as he clings to Anderson. "Please please please," he's chanting, desperate and wrecked, "so close, so fuckin' close, oh _God,_ please help, please let me..."

Keith strokes his hands down trembling thighs, and revels in the way Shep's whole body shakes. "What do you think, Andy?" he murmurs, meeting Anderson's now-glassy eyes. "Think it's time? Think he can come all over himself without a hand on him, just from the way this feels?"

Anderson's eyes slam shut, and he lets out a weak, shuddering moan as his body bucks once, then goes still.

"Did you just," asks Keith, incredulously. Anderson's eyes open wide, locking on his, and he nods, a tear or two tracking down his cheek as he hugs Shep closer to him. Shep seems entirely unaware of the mess Anderson has just made of his back, is still chanting a litany of pleading, Keith's name and Anderson's dying on his lips.

Shep's eyes open then, liquid blue-green like the deepest depths of the ocean, and the wordless, implicit, hopeful trust in those eyes finishes Keith where nothing else could have.

"Baby," he says, and leans forward to kiss Shep's slack mouth. "Come for me, baby -"

Shep is coming before Keith can finish his sentence, a hoarse mewl the only sound he can make as he comes untouched all over his and Anderson's clasped fingers and his own belly. His body clamps down, bucking in the throes of pleasure, and then Keith is coming too, vision whiting out as he spills, deep and hot, inside Shep's still-clenching body.

~*~

"What next?" wonders Shep, still huddled in Anderson's arms as Keith gently cleans the sticky mess from Shep's belly. "What happens in Denver stays in Denver?"

"Well," says Anderson, sharing a glance with Keith. "I'm not sure either of us would like that very much."

"How about," says Keith, his voice even gruffer than usual, "we try this out somewhere other than a crappy hotel bed?"

"And then?" asks Shep, eyes wide, uncharacteristic anxiety in every line of his body.

"And then we see what happens next," says Anderson, stroking soothingly down Shep's side. "And then we see what we want, after we're not in Denver any more."

"One play at a time," agrees Keith. "Don't start planning for the ninth inning when you're still in the bottom of the first, okay?"

"Yeah," says Shep, but there's such relief in his eyes, in his face, in his _voice,_ that Anderson instinctively cuddles him closer. "Yeah, okay."

"Next up," says Anderson, as Keith leans over to kiss him, "top of the second."

And it really is okay.

 


End file.
